


Something New

by dillonmania



Category: DCU (Comics), The Flash (Comics)
Genre: Awkwardness, Bonding, Canon Relationships, Developing Relationship, F/M, Happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-23 12:41:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9657884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dillonmania/pseuds/dillonmania
Summary: Lisa and Roscoe get to know each other during the early days.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story about both of them, but I wanted to emphasize Lisa's point of view and the female gaze to some extent. We see so much of the male gaze in fiction, and I like to ponder why she might be interested in Roscoe when he's a criminal and has always been odd even by Rogue standards. So I might be telling a few tales which imagine their early relationship.
> 
> (And for the record, [Roscoe's newspaper collecting is actually canon](http://i.imgur.com/fdoFyxi.jpg).)

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Lisa remarked politely as she looked around, because she wasn’t sure what else to say. Roscoe’s apartment was the most spartan she’d ever seen, entirely bereft of decoration aside from a single photo of him with the Rogues. What it did have was endless amounts of tops, tools, and assorted technological devices which she couldn’t even begin to identify. She got the impression that he didn’t usually have people over to visit, and probably hadn’t had any romantic relationships in a very long time, if ever.

But Roscoe seemed contentedly unaware of any misgivings or judgmental thoughts. “Thank you!” he replied cheerfully, clearing a pile of electronic tops off the couch for her to sit down. “I’ve got red wine and two types of beer available if you’d like...oh, and whiskey.”  
“Wine sounds good,” she answered. She’d been trying to hide her working-class origins ever since the beginning of her skating career, so she only allowed herself to drink beer in private or with Len. She liked Roscoe very much but still didn’t know him well enough to be fully herself around him, though she hoped that would change soon.

He disappeared into the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with two glasses of medium-quality wine, noticing that she was paging through a handmade scrapbook of her skating career.  
“I like to collect things,” he said with some embarrassment, as the book was very thorough and contained articles and photos from even before they’d met. She smiled at him, flattered, and he was relieved that she didn’t seem annoyed by it.

“Where’d you find these?” she asked curiously, still smiling as she flipped through the pages. It seemed like he had more than a part-time coach’s interest in her career, which was good news because she was still trying to figure out if he liked her the way she liked him; she often found him difficult to analyze.  
“Newspapers and magazines. I read a lot,” he answered, his face still a bit red. He couldn’t believe he’d left the book out where somebody could see it, although he hadn’t planned to invite anyone over. The offer had come hastily during a conversation after her training session, when it had felt to him like they’d had a special connection. 

“Oh, that’s neat. What else do you like to do? Besides, y’know, your _main_ career.”  
He raised a brow at her incredible discretion, as she was well aware that he was a costumed criminal just like her brother. “Not a whole lot...my life is dedicated to my work, so that’s how I spend most of my time. I do a lot of technical work and invention. How about you?”  
“I’m a lot like you are, because skating takes up so much of my life. But I also like to shop and pamper myself during my free time, since a girl has to look good when she’s out on the ice. It’s almost part of my job, in a way,” she said lightly, and he made a mental note that she’d probably enjoy gifts of jewellery and other pretty things.

“I don’t think it could be difficult for you to look good,” he remarked, realizing too late that he might have been excessively forward with her. Their only relationship to date involved professional coaching, and she was the younger sister of a work colleague. “Which is to say, you’re always stylishly dressed and perpetually well-put together,” he then added desperately in an attempt to salvage things.

She laughed in delight, finding his awkwardness absolutely adorable. He wasn’t fooling anyone. “Thank you, that’s sweet of you to say. Still, I like to get my hair and nails done because it makes me feel good and ensures that I look my best even on my off days. You never know when there’ll be a photographer around.”  
He nodded, still smarting about his earlier remark and hoping she wouldn’t tell her brother. “Understandable. I’ve had my share of terrible mugshots and crime photos.”

He looked so uncomfortable that she took pity on him and changed the subject. “Why don’t you show me around? I’d love to see the rest of the place.”  
Roscoe sprang to his feet faster than she could have imagined possible, relieved to have something else to talk about. "Of course! Right this way," he said with a cheerful smile, kicking aside an old costume in need of repair.

"This is where I build my tops," he explained as he held open the door to a small room which had been converted into a workshop. It had once been a child's bedroom, and colourful wallpaper for a preschooler was still visible through the clutter.  
"Oh, wow," Lisa remarked with genuine awe as she stared at everything; she'd never seen more tops or circuit boards in her life. "These are amazing! What do they all do?"

"Well, the red tops are explosive, while the yellow ones use paste and other methods of entrapment for slowing down a foe," he explained. "The green ones contain chemical and gaseous weapons, and the blue ones are typically miscellaneous tops of varying function. This one here, for example, utilizes sonics for an ear-splitting attack. This one negates gravity within twenty feet in all directions. This is a tracking device which spins. This one has a working machine gun which pops out--"

The subject was obviously important to him, and he was so enthusiastic about it that she didn’t want to ask him to slow down or maybe save the extensive descriptions for another time. So she waited patiently while he pointed out particularly impressive specimens he’d built and joyfully explained how they worked, an accomplishment of which he was clearly very proud. She'd rarely seen him look so happy, and that made her feel good too. She was smiling by the time he'd finished.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to go on like that," he noted with embarrassment a few minutes later, having realized just how long he'd been talking.  
"`sokay," she replied gently, still smiling. "We talk about skating so much that you were probably overdue for a little chatter about your stuff. Besides, it was pretty interesting." That was something of a white lie, but nobody liked to hear that their work could be dull, especially when they were so invested in it. "And is there anything else to see around here?"  
"Not a lot, although my work gear is in my room."

"Oh, would you show me?" she asked excitedly, having seen only Len's secret lair and costume before. So he directed her to his modest-sized bedroom, which was possibly even more cluttered than the workshop. It was filled with laundry and more tops and a large closet for his supervillain gear, though he had the good sense to be somewhat embarrassed about the mess. "So cool!" she enthused as she took it all in stride.  
"It lets me get changed in a hurry, and has everything I need when I go out," he nodded, subtly pushing his supportive undergarments out of the way. She noticed and rolled her eyes, as years in athletics had made such essential items no source of shame.

"You've _got_ to model that costume for me," she told him, eyes shining, and he cast her a funny look.  
"What, really? Now?"  
"I've only seen you wear it on TV and in the newspaper. I just want to see how it looks in person."  
There was something about the way she looked at him which convinced him to agree, so he finally nodded and went into the closet to change. She felt oddly nervous about the wait, shifting from foot to foot and listening for what he was doing behind the closed door. "You putting on the mask too?" she called hopefully, and heard an unusual catch in his breath.  
"....sure, if you want me to."

He opened the door and stepped out a few minutes later, and the sight shocked her: he was gorgeous. Tight lycra hugged every contour of his body, emphasizing slim musculature often hidden by street clothes, and it brought out the previously-unnoticed strong cut of his jaw. His athletic legs seemed perfectly sculpted for action, evoking in her a shameless desire to run fingers up their entire length to feel their power. And she was intrigued by the discreet bulge in his groin, minimized as it was by a smoothing dance belt. What lay behind it?

"Oh my God," she exclaimed, hands covering her mouth, and he seemed crestfallen.  
"Do I look stupid?" he asked unhappily, shoulders sagging. "Some people have told me so, but I figured they were just--"  
"Not in the slightest," she interrupted him with a slight lick of her lips. "You look so hot."  
His eyes noticeably widened behind the mask and he scratched his head uncomfortably, suddenly concerned about the future of their coaching relationship. Or what Cold would do to him when he found out about this.

"Did I totally misread the situation?" she asked, puzzled by his reaction. "I thought you invited me over because you're into me."  
"Not at all," he said, flustered, and then realized how bad that sounded. "What I meant to say is that you didn't misread the situation, and I am _very_ into you. And I take it you are interested in me as well."  
"Sweetheart, I want to climb all over you," she told him with a flirty smile, and at the moment his pragmatic concerns about the future didn't seem particularly important. He leaned in for a kiss, and she pulled him close to her with one hand while groping him with the other.

"I think I'd better run to the drugstore," he gasped, mentally chiding himself for not keeping protection around just in case, but she smirked at him.  
"You're not going anywhere -- I've got condoms in my purse. Now, I want you to show me just how a supervillain gives a lady a good time."  
"Well, first he takes her hostage," he whispered in her ear, and she flushed.


End file.
